Lonely Reflection
by Koulabwy
Summary: Heero Yuy has always been the pillar of strength for his comrades. But who supports him when his own strength wavers?


I tried to write this as one of those challenges where you listen to a song and write a one-shot within the length of the song's time. However, I couldn't manage to stay within the time limit, so I just decided to write an actual one-shot. I got the idea while listening to "Sounds of Loneliness" by Patty Loveless. I had been on a Trowa and Heero kick lately and wanted to do a story focused mostly on their companionship. Then the song came on and just fit.

This is by no means a yaoi pairing. It's strictly bromance (brotherly love). Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or "Sounds of Loneliness" and take no credit for either.

_Lonely Reflection_

Heero stared at the gray concrete beneath his boots. His dark blue eyes held a lost look as he pondered his existence. He'd been left with nothing and yet given everything. What did one do with his existence when the reason for existing ceased? He had yet to find a new purpose. He thought he'd found one in Relena, but that eventually wasn't enough. All of the other pilots found new lives for themselves, but Heero only understood war. He existed when battles erupted. When the fighting finished, his purpose vanished once more. Cold sky water drummed against him and soaked through his black hoodie. Chocolate strands grew heavy with crystalline liquid and melted against his face. Heero watched as the rain pelted the ground in a steady rhythm, giving sound to his own emptiness. Droplets caressed his cheeks to form the tears that never spilled. He was always the strength of the five pilots, the pillar; but who was there to be his strength when he could no longer stand on his own?

The rain suddenly stopped barraging him, and Heero glanced up to find the source of the obstruction. His eyes widened fractionally at the sight of Trowa standing beside him shielding him from the rain with an umbrella. The taller young man watched him calmly. He didn't ask why Heero was sitting alone on a park bench in the rain. Cobalt eyes softened back into that lost look that haunted them lately and returned to staring at the sidewalk. Heero didn't ask; he wouldn't. He slowly glanced to the side when he noticed Trowa move. Heero blinked in surprise at the hand silently offered to him. Heero had only shaken hands with someone once in his life. His eyes slowly shifted to meet Trowa's visible eye. Trowa's brown hair swept forward to cover one half of his face and allowed others to only see one of his eyes at a time. The taller young man met Heero's gaze patiently, hazel green eye filled with knowing. Those hazel eyes knew; they always knew. His fingers slightly numb from the cold Heero slipped his hand into Trowa's and squeezed firmly. The pressure was appropriate for a handshake, but this was no handshake. Heero's eyes widened slightly as Trowa tightened his grip and actually pulled his comrade to his feet. Trowa didn't let go. His grip stayed firm and his hazel green gaze never left Heero's.

Those same eyes that had watched over the shorter boy for a month while Heero lay unconscious and vulnerable. Those eyes that had watched him try to give up that same saved life. Eyes that guarded him throughout the war. Only hazel green ever caught the subtle flicker of wavering strength in cobalt. Only hazel called the bluff, knew cobalt's lie. Heero felt the strength in Trowa's grip and remembered when strong hands guided him through months of pain while hazel eyes held their protective vigil over him.

Heero recognized the determination in Trowa's gaze and hold. The taller young man would hear no protests, no excuses. Heero released a weary breath as his own gaze slid to the sidewalk again, his façade of strength finally slipping. Trowa released Heero's hand but placed his own on the other boy's shoulder and gripped it lightly yet firmly. Heero understood the silent command. Trowa's hand slid from Heero's shoulder to his bicep as if remembering the wound there from so long ago. However, Trowa's hand retained its grip. He started walking slowly past, gently guiding Heero to turn and walk with him. Heero gave no struggles. Trowa refused to let go until he knew Heero would follow. Finally, Trowa released Heero's arm and switched the umbrella to that hand so the domed canvas shielded both boys. Heero slipped his hands into his own jean pockets, cold except for the one Trowa had held with warm strength.


End file.
